The truth it wavers
In mine eye
But the whiskey
It never lies
The smoked out burn
A liquid caress
That helps me slip out
Of my dress
And into bed
With book and glass in hand
To a peaceful
Troubled rest

I've washed the sheets a hundred times
Yet still I can't shake
The feeling
That their is a hint
of your scent
lingering on the pillowcase
Where you last slept
Before you left

Russia and America circle each other;
Threats nudge an act that were without doubt
A melting of the mould in the mother,
Stones melting about the root.

The quick of the earth burned out:
The toil of all our ages a loss
With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought
(Not to be thought ridiculous)

Shies from the world-cancelling black
Of its playing shadow: it has learned
That there's no trusting (trusting to luck)
Dates when the world's due to be burned;

That the future's no calamitous change
But a malingering of now,
Histories, towns, faces that no
Malice or accident much derange.

And though bomb be matched against bomb,
Though all mankind wince out and nothing endure --
Earth gone in an instant flare --
Did a lesser death come

Onto the white hospital bed
Where one, numb beyond her last of sense,
Closed her eyes on the world's evidence
And into pillows sunk her head.

Waking into
A world of change
Still can't seem to scratch
This ache
Alone again
I'm home again
Finally free
to be me
Leads me to question
About this silly obsession
Why try to be loved
When every time
I feel the need to disguise
my mind?

clumsily, I fall -
whether it be in or
out of love with you.
similar to how
I bring accidental pain
upon myself, simply
from knocking
my knee on something
solid. clumsily,
I trip over my own
footsteps. I know not
my destination, or
what I'll do upon arrival.

clumsily, I allow
myself to create pathetic
fancies. stupidly,
I give you the power
to inflict
bitter pain upon me.
me, the clumsiest girl
you'll ever know,
who'd be
glad for whichever marks
etched upon her skin,
by you.